


The Runaway

by Ismer



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Worship, Bondage, Cockblocking, Dom/sub, Mild Domestic Violence, Mild S&M, Other, Tactile Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismer/pseuds/Ismer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambulon's troubles didn't start at Delphi, but becoming his new employer's "pet" was a world of frustration the runaway never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently a one-shot that might turn into a collection of Ambulon/Delphi-centric one-shots or an actual running story if there's enough interest.

"Come on. That's it, that's a good mech," Pharma encouraged, lifting his hand from Ambulon's helm as the nurse did his very best not to be caught off guard by those precise, punishing fingers delving into his joints again.

Not that he didn't enjoy the pain on some level as part of this play, so to speak. More that it meant he wasn't doing as well as he could be. Sometimes he sought out the punishment anyway, delighting in just a little bit of controlled pain, but overall it was a disgrace not to serve a given function. Yes, even if currently that amounted to kneeling beside his boss with his hands box-tied behind him, teasing his glossa down the seams of Pharma's side. And over his chest vents, and into the wiring of his arm joints, and into the exposed parts of his hip structiform...

Pharma's "erogenous" zones were slightly harder to get to than most mechs' - almost every spot the cranky jetron enjoyed being touched was somewhere on his internal mesh, and he never let Ambulon just _reach_ for those bits. He had to work for it.

As for zones which weren't as hard to get to, Pharma's hands were really his most sensitive feature just like those of many medical or data-caste bots. But Ambulon had quickly learned, as this kind of after-shift play became a regular endeavor between them once he'd settled into his new role at the hospital base, he wasn't allowed to touch the hands. No, he got to sit and watch Pharma self-pleasure by slowly and sensually stroking his own digits across each other. The rest of the jetron's frame would gather charge just from the simple tactile contact as he threaded his fingers together or traced the seams in his palms, but Ambulon couldn't participate even as the heat wafting off his boss started to tease his own lust to the surface. Pharma didn't want it to be that easy for him.

So meanwhile, he was licking his way from a hip joint toward the seam outlining the doctor's codpiece, letting out a little, buzzing static whine and trying to nudge the plating apart. Fraggit, if he couldn't get the mech to at least _open his panels_ by the end of their session he would be absolutely furious with himself.

It wasn't specifically that he was attracted to Pharma, wanted to make him happy, or even that he liked the jet all that much.

It had been months of this teasing and taming and training, and he'd never seen under that armor. He'd caught a glimpse of Pharma's spark exactly once - during a medical procedure, so it wasn't as if the nurse could stop to admire the swirling, radiant energy shining out of the other bot's laser core. But other than that he'd not even seen his boss' cord, or his data panel, or his said-to-be-well-practiced port. (Though admittedly, the description he'd heard attached to that last one was difficult for Ambulon to believe since the other bot was consistently coarse, dour, and incredibly picky. It was more likely a rumor started among the staff in retaliation to the doctor's enduring harsh attitude.)

So Ambulon nuzzled his way down a thigh as those legs parted to allow him to awkwardly knee-walk between them, and slowly lapped back up along an especially sensitive crease in the taller bot's armor. He intentionally teased by skipping over the pelvic area and moved to delve his glossa into Pharma's ventral seams, earning an actual, unstifled moan for his efforts. He could feel the slightest crackles finally running through the frame before him.

"Ambulon."

"Yeah, Boss?" The response was automatic, mumbled while he continued to trail his lips attentively over his superior's belly plating.

"That's good." The jet's hand came down onto his helm again, praising, almost a caress but lacking the prerequisite emotion for such a tender word.

There, acknowledgment. Proof he was on to something this time, whether it was just that he'd learned enough of Pharma's sensitive spots now, or he'd hit them in just the right order, or the medijet was under more stress today and needed the relief - he was closing in on his goal.

"Thanks, Boss." Ambulon redoubled his efforts, nuzzling up toward the layered plating of his employer's chestcase, almost able to taste the metallic tang in the air as ripples of charge came off his spark in steady waves now. A gentle but meaningful push at his shoulder stopped him.

"No, I mean that's enough for now. You can go. I'll see you at lights-on."

Fraggit, _really_ _?_

In direct defiance of Pharma's usual set of demands - the "code" he was strictly expected to follow when they were engaged in this nonsense - Ambulon's head swung up to lock optics with the half-shuttered blue ones above him. 

Pharma's brow rose, minutely. He would let Ambulon piss him off _just enough_ to justify a slightly harsher punishment. The nurse continued to hold his gaze, incredulous and exasperated. Finally, the hand on his shoulder pushed again, a solid reminder. 

He actually expected Ambulon to just get up and go after they were both sufficiently revved up. He could hear that big jet engine humming and feel the other's EM pulsing invitingly. His own panels were practically burning, electricity coursing through his gearwork, tingling up and down his whole frame while just a little bit of collected lubricant had started to trickle from the pelvic seams he'd been ordered to keep tightly closed up. And the flier was just going to make Ambulon walk away, both of them to undoubtedly self-serve in their respective privacy. Pharma was so-

This whole submission thing was starting to find its way onto Ambulon's list of likes, but the way Pharma used his position of control could be  _infuriating._

He was admonished for headbutting the doctor square in his cockpit with an open-palmed slap to the cheek, but Pharma said nothing further. The jet's intent had probably been a control exercise, but this particularly drawn-out "lesson" had only managed to frustrate Ambulon. At least Pharma graciously didn't add any verbal barbs or threats to the sting of total dismissal. The nurse's arms were untied and he sped out the door without looking back, his EM field waffling between arousal and anger and his frame audibly crackling with heat from both.

It said something about his reputation at the hospital that no one spun around in concern or confusion anymore upon feeling his highly-charged field of conflicting emotions brush by their own. The "tension" between him and Pharma was already becoming legendary - everyone thought he was developing some sort of feelings for the doctor, who they supposed kept brushing him off because of his former post on "the other side."

It said something about his so-called relationship with Pharma that the staff's collective assumption was less embarrassing to him than what was actually going on.

And it _really_ said something about his own state of mind that he already knew he'd go back tomorrow. Next time he'd get in. He  _would_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
